Get Better or Die Trying
by Dragonist
Summary: People suck. Light, current Kira and future World Dictator, wants to fix that. But despite his genius, there's some things he just doesn't understand. "Back!" L shrieked over his spork. "Back, you foul therapist!" Don't they know he's just trying to help?
1. The Story of the Universe

Once upon the time, in a strange land where people thought it was semi-normal to wear fox ears and cat tails and to sell used panties from vending machines, an over-flying plane carrying Stephen Colbert, Ford Prefect, and the anti-Christ was hit by lightning and EXPLODED. In all caps too, because anything containing so much epic win as that deserves them.

The powers that be, sensing that there was a disturbance in the force, knew that they would have to do something drastic to fill the gaping hole of awesomeness. Even though they were on the last few days of their bi-annual forty days and forty nights frat party and more than slightly under the influence, they realized that no "religion" could ever be big enough to stop up that big sopping black hole.

However, the rum was gone, and there were only eight bottles of beer left on the wall. So the powers that be demonstrated why you should never make any big decisions while under the influence and decided that the only thing to do was to take the most awesome newly departed souls of Stephen Colbert, Ford Prefect, and the anti-Christ out of hell, since they had already conquered the first five levels in this run-on introduction, and merge them into one mega, super awesome person that could fix everything wrong with the world while the powers that be nursed off their hangovers. The powers that be also decided not to breathe, because investing in that wine-mister for the underground man cave was probably not helping them on the whole sobriety thing.

Anyway, beer hardened angels stormed through the frozen over levels of hell, ignoring the poor crying devils as they searched for, decapitated, and then dragged out the aforementioned souls and any hidden bottles of rum they could find. Those party goers drunk enough to brave the limbo game shuddered as an echo-y laugh drifted out from the pile of rapidly disappearing apples.

In a white hospital room, Sachiko Yagami screamed as Light came down the from heavens… literally.

AN:

Okay, so I've come to hate writing these things, but here it goes. I figured since I can no longer use the excuse, "bUt Im onlee 13!1!1! Y U hatin on me?" to excuse any complaints about my writing, I might as well fess up. In case you haven't realized by now, this is not a story meant to be taken seriously. In anyway. At all.

Originally, this _was_ a serious fic. I was going to have Light psychoanalyzing everyone and using really big words all the time to show off my uber genius. Then I took a look at my profile, and at some of the genuinely horrible stories there, and freaked out at the thought of writing something serious when it could be compared to some of my earlier written-when-I-was-thIrTeeN-fics. Which were _really, really_ bad, in case you can't imagine. (Although, I'm pretty sure most people can. We've all been there, right?)

If you really can't imagine it (because I'm just so awesome now), take a look at Coming Out. (Warning. It's slash.) You know that poem there? Yeah? Yeah. That used to be the base of the story. And what Remus is parodying? I don't have him mocking the stereotypical way teenage girls write slashy k+ rated love stories. I have him mocking the way that I wrote _that_ slashy, k+ rated love story. In the original version, he was being serious. And Sirius, while being serious, said things like "You are mine, my little werewolf," without it being some kind of Red Riding Hood roleplay.

So, this is going to be my stress relieving fic. Some people have slinkies, other those little squeezy things filled with radioactive substances that always look like they're one little squeeze away from bursting and giving you that face from that White Knight guy from the Dark Knight batman movie.

There will be absolutely nothing taken serious here - and that means "twu luv" as well. No, Light is not going to give up his stereotypical insane gay megalomaniac hobby of killing off his therapy patients and yelling at the tv in order to get L pregnant and raise 2.4 kids with him in some house with a white picket fence. Nor is he going to realize that Misa, despite being a dumb blonde who he originally planned to kill off, is the love of his life and that he should jealously kill off all other men on the planet so that he has no competition.

That doesn't mean, however, that L isn't going to get pregnant, Misa is going to be your average little hot dumb bitch, and Light isn't going to hint at whatever he wants to hint at. It just means that this isn't a slash story, it isn't a serious story, and if you're expecting something like that, go else where. There are tons of not cracky, serious romantic fics about Light and L, or Light and Misa, or Matsuda and Light's dad's mustache. I think even I have one. ~shudder~

So, now that my author's note is officially longer than my first chapter, I bid you adieu. Or to go jump in a cesspool. I don't know french, so it could probably go either way.


	2. Light's Little Black Book

_Disclaimer: Chewed gum is sticky. The placing of it in one's hair may result in an undesirable situation._

* * *

Light Yagami was not amused. At the front of the room, a balding middle aged man was giving a lecture. _God_, Light scowled, _Can these people be anymore suckish? It's no wonder I always feel like I want to lecture them into next week… They can't even master basic English, not to mention hair care!_

Light was not your average high school student, and what was more was that everyone knew it. There was just something about him that made everyone know that on a win scale of one to ten, where one was that dweeb who ate lunch in the bathroom and ten was a mosh pit made of Skittles, Light was infinity plus one. Yeah, plus, not minus, you bastard physicists.

Whether it was his amazingly perfect hair, his scintillating wit, or his ability to divide by zero, Light was everything any guy could want to be. Because of that, people were more than willing to forgive him for some of his more eccentric qualities, like his insistence that the truth was too much for them, his belief that astrophysicists deserved to be ridiculed, and the way his eyes would sometimes flash red.

But then again, he was the top student in the nation, so maybe that truthiness thing of his did have something going for it.

Sometimes, Light felt like being admired by everyone who ever existed just wasn't enough. Like during his English class, when he was once again reminded that even though people had the right idea about worshiping his existence, he wasn't sure if he even wanted such utter imbeciles to even be around him.

After all, stupidity was contagious.

Light, however, was working on a solution to that problem. Long ago, after he had decided that the only position worthy of a being such as himself was Dictator of the World, Light had experienced an epiphany.

_People,_ Light had thought, _suck. Most of them are stupid, and more of them are ugly. I don't want to rule over stupid, ugly people. I want to rule over un-boring interesting people who look like they don't have STDs._

This quandary had stayed with him for quite a while, until one day, as he lounged on the couch while his younger sister squealed about something on the television, he realized what it is was that had been going wrong all this time, and he finally knew how the world could be made a good and happy place.

His sister had clapped as a rather windswept conservative who was screaming something about the charges being a lie, and that he had never raped and murdered a young girl in 1990 was dragged away by a few very nice looking men with white coats. Light had frowned.

_Wait… Rape? Should Sayu be watching this? _Not that he cared much, but his mother could have been watching, and he always tried to give a good face for the parentals.

Then another man had showed up, claiming he was the Beck guy's therapist, and that he was only trying to help, and that no client of his was a rapist, and how did the men in white coats feel about that?

_A therapist! _Light sat up with a jolt as his sister chucked her sippy-cup at the screen. _That's it! I know what I have to do… I shall become a therapist for the world, until its filled with people who aren't complete idiots, and then I shall rule it!_

After Light had gotten over his maniacal diatribe, he slowly pet his sisters feather-stuffed Doritos plushie, because his mother was too allergic to let him have a cat or some kind of hamster for his dramatic moments, and because Doritos were one of the few things he could say yes to. His sister had started out with a stuffed bear, but his parents had learned the hard way about letting enemies into the after he had _gently _explained the threat down to them.

Who ever said you couldn't teach old dogs new tricks?

Either way, Light now knew what he had to do. In order to make the world not so much of a horrible place so that he could rule it happily, he would become the world's first World Therapist. He even knew how he would do it, and it really was for their own good anyway, so he wouldn't even have to feel bad for it.

He would go around to every person who needed his help - which was really _every _person - and tell them exactly what was wrong them, every chance he could, so that they would understand that they were horrible, fix it, and become a better person.

_In hindsight_, Light sighed as he pretended to listen to his teacher, _that wasn't my best plan. But I've spent too much time on it already, so there's no time left to pick a new one. I'll just have to tough it out and get some expendable minions to do the grunt work. How I would kill for some minions…_

Suddenly, sensing a minor disturbance in the force, he looked out the window. _The fuck?_ He thought. A black notebook had fallen to the ground.

As soon as the class had ended, Light walked up to the notebook. "A 'Death Note'?" Light frowned. "Hell… why's it in English? No one here besides me is smart enough to want to struggle through something like this if not for class. Is this another one of those projects for psychology? I didn't want to have to deal with a baby Flour bag, but… Maybe I should have taken psychology. If I'm stuck learning about Romeo while those dorks get to read shit like this, something definitely is wrong with the world."

A group of nearby students edged away slightly as Light's eyes flashed red. They had known him long enough to readily embrace the forgive and forget policy when it came to him and his monologues and knew that the best thing to do in a situation like this was to pretend to be either deaf, blind, dumb, stupid, or foreign. Despite their attending the same school as Light for at least a decade, Light never seemed to notice or care about their temporary ailments… Mysterious.

Shrugging nonchalantly, because Light liked to pretend his rants at the sky were normal, Light skipped his way home. "Let's see," The black cover of the notebook opened up to reveal a list of rules. "Oh _pooh_. Like I need this. I make the rules, I don't follow them."

Then, because even though he was as OCD as the master Monk himself, Light just couldn't stand for someone defying his authority. He whipped out a magic marker and proceeded to perform his own special brand of vandalism.

"Let's see," Light muttered, squinting his red flashing eyes. His mother had tried to make him get glasses, but glasses were for losers and contacts were for masochists. Like hell he was sticking things in his eyes on a daily basis! His momma didn't raise no fool.

"The human whose name is written in here shall die… This will not take effect unless the writer has the person's face in mind… If the cause of death is not written within forty seconds… Yadda yadda yadda." Light gave the rules one last disgusted look before liberally covering them with magical ink as black as he liked his coffee - which would be a medium cream, because black coffee tasted like some real bad fucking shit, and like he already stated, he wasn't some sort of masochist.

Anyway, soon the page was more of a… well, let's just no more. Light stared at it for a few moments, one eyebrow raised. "Are you shitting me?" Light snorted. "A mysterious book falls from the sky and talks about magically killing people, and I don't even get to talk to a sexy young Christian Coulson?"

Flipping to the next page of the book, Light stared irritably at it. "Now let's see. I bet I can summarize those rules way better than whatever joker thought up this whole thing could." And he did. Except better. Without the crummy specifics and in secret code so that only he could understand in his… genius. Yeah. _Genius._

The notebook read as follows. "Know thy name and face, dipshit, cuz if UR gonna kill some1 U better know that much. Humans only, fags + UR mom Rn't included. If U want 2B personal about it, put their cause of death in B4 40 secs, & then their details in the next 6 min and 40 secs, cuz I'm a bastard who doesn't want 2 give U easy 2 remember #'s. If no cause is written, then it's 3 attacks all the way baby, cuz UR all gonna die of 'em by 45 NEway, fatasses."

Light nodded, face set. His message was stern but merciful. It laid down the law firmly, but in a gentle way. It presented not the facts but the TRUTH. Now, if only he could find a way to get free drinks out of it…

Shaking his head, Light reminded himself that he wasn't an English car, he was in no way funny, and that drinking was an irresponsible thing for people to do while in high school and a pathetic thing to do out of drunken frat parties.

Light tried not to think of things like drinking and funny car names or why his eyes turned red or why he was pretty sure that the "t" in his name was meant to be silent, he really did. But looking around his room, it was easy to see why someone as amazing brilliant and pretty as Light would succumb to such a demeaning thing as boredom and contemplating one's place in the universe.

Light's room pretty much sucked. There was bookshelf full of books that were banned from schools because of their radical-ness, not their pictures, a computer that he could hack into NPA with, but not into any _interesting_ sites because his dad was a cop and had people watching him _all the time_, and a bed _not_ full of good memories.

So, after spending a good fifteen minutes picking the lint off his sleeve, Light sighed, grabbed his new notebook, and headed off to the television to do his favorite thing - yelling at the stupid people on it.

Sometimes, he felt a bit odd about it, like he had that one time his mother had informed him that the people on the screen couldn't hear him. When he replied with, no, it's me that can't hear them, she had edged away slightly and went off to bake cookies.

He was going to have to talk to her about that… It wouldn't do for Light, soon to be God of the New World Order, to gain weight.

Either way, an hour passed in which Light ranted viciously against the people who had the indignity to pretend that they couldn't hear him. "And change your clothes, you fucking bastard! What kind of retard wears the same clothes for longer than twenty-four hours! No, you fucking reporter, I _don't_ give a shit if he's holding a bunch of kids hostage, that's no excuse for neglecting basic hygiene!"

As the reporter droned on, Light snorted as he crossed his arms. "The hell do you think you are, bitch? Yeah, like no one can see that pimple on the side of your fucking huge-ass nose… Think again, dyke." Suddenly, Light got a light bulb above his head. "Fuck, Sayu!" The aforementioned girl giggled as she skipped up to her room. "I told you to stop throwing these things at me, it's not that funny!"

Tossing the bulb over his shoulder, Light ignored the ensuing crash as his eyes snapped down to his little black book. The face of his latest failed client-to-be in mind, Light picked it up. "Well," He rationalized, "It's not like the world could miss anyone that ugly anyway." His morals comforted, Light quickly scrawled down the name and got up to go make himself a sandwich.

Behind him, the television blared on as the scene turned sentimental. Little children ran towards their crying parents, and a police squadron rushed into the building. Light, of course, noticed none of it, because he was on his ass on the floor, picking light bulb shards out of his foot.

Brown eyes scowling at his giggling sister, Light grimaced. "Last time I have another fucking idea where Sayu can see it," He muttered.

Much later that night, Light sat at the diner table with his family, muttering darkly under his breath as he ignored their concerned glances. Trying to lighten up the mood, Sachiko, his mother, clapped her hands. "Well!" She started off brightly, "How was work today, honey?"

Soichiro's mustache wiggled. "The weirdest thing happened at work today," His mustache said. Light glared at it with a passion. _Mustaches,_ Light thought, _will be the fourth thing to go. _Sayu made odd hissing noises at her food. Her food hissed back.

Soichiro's mustache bravely soldiered on. "There was this hostage situation with some dude and a bunch of kids - creepiest thing since that Charlie and The Chocolate Factory remake, if you asked me." Soichiro's mustache often felt like the world would be a much better place if people asked it's opinion more often.

Sayu and her food came to an agreement and began to make odd hissing noises at the mustache. Light, sensing an ally, fed his peas to Sayu's mashed potato monster. It was a worthy sacrifice if it meant getting rid of all which was wrong with the world.

"It was the strangest thing," The mustache continued. "Just as we were ready to give up on the children and just bomb the shit out of them so we could all go on a doughnut break, the dude just passed it. The autopsy showed that the guy's major intestine apparently leaped straight up through his neck and throttled his brain." The mustache was greeted with a stunned silence.

Sachiko looked troubled. "Can intestines do that?" She ventured. Even Sayu and the potatoe monster stopped their conversation. Light went pale.

The mustache appeared to be attempting to nod, if its twitching was anything to go by. "Apparently. Story has it, one of the kids let him borrow a mirror, and his body realized that it would be a crime to let something so ugly live-" The rest of the explanation was cut short as Light dashed away from the table and ran up the stairs, a black notebook cradled in his arms

Taking the brief moment of silence as its cue, the mashed potatoes launched themselves off of the table and onto Soichiro's mustache, who then commanded its man slave, Soichiro, to run like hell. Sayu, being hell, ran after them. "No, Mr. Mashed Potatoes! You can do so much better!"

Sachiko bit her lip and stared at the empty chairs strewn around her table. "Where did I go wrong?" She pondered. "Maybe I should have listened to that lovely man when I was pregnant with Light before he died in that terribly tragic plane crash. I just never believed that blood mattered more than mustaches…" Then she grabbed the others' plates, shoved the food down her throat, and waddled off towards the kitchen. "Oh well! More food for me!" She cheered.


	3. Therapists United

Disclaimer: You break it, you buy it. No refunds. Please check all used hookers for imperfections before purchasing.

"Oh, Light darling!" Sachiko fluttered around her son. "Did you have a nice day at school? I made some ~pie~ for you!" Light gave her a grudging hug.

"No thanks, mother. Pie is disgusting! It's made of gross fruits or meat or meat that was once a fruit and either way its an abomination!" Light's eyes lit up as he dug around his school bag, bringing out his favorite notebook. "Here mother, I'm putting this down for our next session. Until then, I want you to think about why it is you _always_ make pie for us to eat. We're not American!" Face set, Light then skipped up the stairs to his room, leaving Sachiko looking bewildered on the stairway.

"Was that a yes then, for pie, sweetie?" Her only answer was the slam of Light's bedroom door. Sachiko sighed. "I suppose I should have listened to that sweet Todd boy after all… They are ruined after twelve." Then she waddled off dramatically to the kitchen.

Light sprawled gleefully across his bed, his little black book clutched tight in his arms. "To imagine it!" He squealed, his perfect hair shining from the light cast by his overhead lamp, "My business has never been more successful!"

A plaque sat on his computer desk. _Light Yagami_, it read. _The World's best World Therapist: Get Better or Die Trying_.

A dark, hulking figure loomed over the teenage boy. Ryuk set his gruesome face into a grin, ready to unleash his not-so-furious fury upon his protégé… only to be disappointed, as Light continued to giggle to himself. Ryuk finally let off a light cough.

"Eep!" Light scrambled backwards until his back was against the wall. "What's a no good fugly person like yourself doing in here!" Clapping his hands, Light gasped. "Oh! I know! You must have heard about my practice!" Tossing the death note aside, Light reached for his other favorite notebook - the one he kept his appointments in.

"Let's see…" Light muttered, "I'm doing mom on the fourteenth, Sayu on Wednesday, dad tomorrow… but he's been awfully busy at his job lately, so I might have an opening then, especially since of all my repeats dropping dead so suddenly…" Noticing Ryuk's expression, Light was quick to clarify. "Not that there's anything to worry about! All you really have to do to keep living is stay interesting, and I'm sure you'll have no problem with that."

Ryuk shuddered. Did that human just eye him up? "Don't worry about it." Ryuk leered nervously. When confronted by a mad dog, you were supposed to intimidate it before it could intimidate you, right? "Ryuk's just the owner of that little notebook over there," Drifting over to the death note, Ryuk opened it up. "See! Right here - property of-" He frowned. "Now, what did you do to this?"

Flipping through the pages and ignoring the human's nonsensical babbling, Ryuk's eyes went wide. "This…" Ryuk's eyes flashed red. Light wondered if he should start cowering now. "This an utter miracle!" The shinigami's laugh echoed throughout the room.

Carefully wiping his tears away with his claws, Ryuk gave the human an appreciative look. "All of these names in only five days? You're Ryuk's kind of human, kid."

Light flipped his hair with an exaggerated sigh. "Please, don't insult me. I'm no one's human, darling." Raising one perfectly plucked eyebrow, Light crossed his arms. "Now, if you aren't here for an appointment, what is it that you want? You're not taking my little black book away from me now, are you?"

The shinigami snorted. "Are you kidding me? This is the most fun Ryuk's had in years."

"You're telling me I get all of this completely for free?" Light blinked.

"Well, the death note does bind Ryuk and you together in something disturbingly like marriage, and Ryuk's gonna kill you when you die, and the users of this death note are sentenced to an eternity of playing Limbo with Ryuk… but other than that, nah, shinigami Ryuk and human Light are cool." Ryuk scratched his spikes. "You got any apples?"

Light had a decision to make. "Well, I guess if we're fruits now, yeah. Go eat them in front of my mom so I'll have a little extra something to work on in our next session… Helping people with their shinigami problems can go on the premium charge list."

Ryuk started floating towards the door. "Oh, wait!" Light furrowed his brow. "The whole Ryuk thing… You're not going to talk in third person all the time, are you?"

Ryuk shrugged. "Depends on how dipshitty you are. When I heard you were a therapist, I couldn't resist. Keep giving me your fruit and I'll tone it down."

His cheerful hums giving a pleasant uplift to his mother's screams, Light went back to work. He wasn't going to have any failing patients! After all, as his daddy had always told him, better dead than crazy.

* * *

In another country far, far away from the land of vending machine panties and _furries,_ a group of middle aged men in suits sat around and bickered. The biannual bingo game of Interpol had been called off because of a request of their most depended on ally - their therapist.

"Hurry up," One of the more important looking business men yelled. At Interpol, as in many politically powerful positions, levels of important-ness were measured in how many mistresses you had on the side. Currently, he had three - two on his left, and one on his right. "Get our personal moral assuage-er on the line!"

A few less important flunkies hurriedly made some calls. A giant screen was lowered from the ceiling.

"Well," The giant screen flickered to life as the face of Mrs. Two (known to her closer friends simply as Forty) appeared, smiling the smile of a woman who knows she was ten hours away from the stuffy men and diseased whores she was looking at. "Hello, my beloved Interpol, and how are we feeling today?"

"Itchy!" One of the men yelled out. He had recently had to downsize from two clean hookers to one and a half not-so-clean after discovering his favorite mistress was his daughter from his current marriage. That lawsuit was a bitch. Or that bitch was a lawsuit... It could go either way.

Plastic smile in place, Mrs. Two reassured herself that she could charge extra for this. "Well," She said brightly, "I think this is perfectly normal behavior for anyone in a political position, you know? The natural and unhealthy progression of our day and age towards even more natural and unhealthy actions!"

Crossing their legs, two other twitchy looking members sighed. "That's what she always says," One of them muttered.

Mrs. Two's glasses flashed. The couple gulped. Her smile remained as plastic as ever. "Well," she said, "I think that this is perfectly average behavior for a therapist. Good. Now we all are clearly well-adjusted members of society."

The smile didn't move, but the atmosphere in the room darkened nonetheless. "Now… tell me, what news have ye of the mission?"

The more important looking business man stood up. "I have had my flunkies contact L while at my latest business trip to the Hawaiian spas." As he sat down, the rest of the men clapped.

A business man who looked vaguely reminiscent of a toad stood up. "Well, ahem," he coughed. "I, ahem, managed to, hem hem, compile a list of, ah, the most likely to be, ahem, targeted criminals." Another round of applause rippled throughout the room.

"Bitch," The more important looking business man muttered. "Always trying to show me up."

Mrs. Two clasped her hands. "Perfect!" Her unmoving teeth gleamed. "Now," The atmosphere of the room softened. Mrs. Two's face did not. "I understand you might feel guilty about what you're going to have to do-"

"What I don't understand," The itchy looking man interrupted, "Is why exactly we have to do something to stop this Killer Therapist. So far, what, the only people he's killed are the criminally ugly, stupid, or insane! He's doing our job for us! Why-" Mrs. Two snapped. The itchy man fell over backward, red blood splashing out of the hole through his head.

"Damnit," His whore cursed, wiping the blood off her corset. "I'm gonna have to get this dry cleaned."

"Any more questions?" Mrs. Two smiled. It wouldn't do to have any of her loyal customers questioning her. If the other therapists realized she was eliminating the competition through legal means, she wouldn't be invited back to LOVEMUFFIN's tri-annual barbeque. "No? I didn't think so."

The business men watched as she turned her chair around. Was this the end of their meeting? The relieved expressions disappeared as she looked back. "And remember, people, I know that it sounds foreign, but foreign sounding is better than therapist sounding. You wouldn't want people to get the _wrong _idea about therapists now, would you? It's _Kira_, not _Ki_ller The_ra_pist_. _You take the first syllable of the first word and the second syllable of the second word - its not that complicated, people!"

Mrs. Two coughed, fixing her hair. "Anyway, that's all. Live long and prosper and all that shit. I'm afraid I won't be able to see you until next month, though, I have a barbeque to get to." The assembled men gave out a sigh of relief as her screen turned black.

The more important looking business man glanced over at the still bleeding corpse. "Flunkies, pick that up. I hereby call this meeting of Interpol Anonymous over. Don't forget to pick up your souvenir t-shirts on the way out."


	4. I'll Catch You Too

Light hummed along to the radio inside his head. The soon to be God of the New World Order was making his way home from school, two nameless extras and his faithful henchman Ryuk at his side.

Ryuk frowned. Light tossed him an apple. "I resemble that," Ryuk remarked as he crunched into it. The extras shivered.

The taller of the nameless extras gave a concerned look at the rapidly disappearing fruit. "Hey," He whispered, "Do you think that's some kind of slight against gay people?"

The shorter extra snorted. "Trust me, if it was, you'd know it. There'd be fifty men only wearing beards and thongs if we were _lucky._" The floating potato knocked against his shoulder. "Don't you worry either, That Dumb Whore isn't going to come back here again if he knows what's what."

The taller extra bit his lip. "Are you sure? They don't call him the supreme mugwumper for nothing, you know."

The shorter extra gave them a disgusted look. "Haven't you guys heard about Kira? He's been taking care of the criminally ugly, stupid, and insane." The taller extra and the potato brightened up. "I'm sure that he'll EXTERMINATE all of the over-fifty men in only beards and thongs and That Dumb Whore in no time."

Light continued to hum, periodically tossing apples over his shoulder. He was trying to teach Ryuk how to roll over.

"I heard," The potato whispered, "that you can go on to some website at midnight and ask Kira to take one of your enemies to hell," the potato gave a shifty look, "but in return, Kira takes your soul down to hell as well!"

"Dumbass!" Screeched the taller extra, "That's the wrong anime!" He gave the potato a light smack. Unfortunately for him, the potato had recently been baked, so the light smack accidentally pulverized him on Light's latest thrown apple. In the span of a second, he was gone. A sound so light it could barely be heard drifted through the street as the two extras took the time to mourn their potato friend.

"Fuck," Ryuk cursed, "I've been trying to watch my waistline." Picking potato skin out his teeth, the shinigami shuddered. Why would any God ever even create such a fattening, disgusting food?

Light bravely hummed on.

The shorter extra frowned. "Poor guy… for a potato he wasn't half bad. A bit useless, to be sure, even as comic relief, and everyone always did comment on his long ass, but even that was useful for getting a conversation going."

Light, the two extras, and the sidekick arrived at Light's corner. Taking a deep breath, Light gave a blinding smile. "Ryuk, you're never gonna loose that last pound. Extra number two, your fly has been unzipped since seventh avenue - and I mean since seventh avenue, not that I noticed it then, although I really wish that I didn't notice why."

The two extras paled and looked down. "Which one of us is extra number two?" The taller one hissed frantically.

Light's smile twitched, but remained strong. "Also, for the seventh time, the vegetable that's been in our class since _first year_ is a butternut squash, you dipshits. Either read a fucking book or pay more attention during your summer farming jobs, because with the stellar observation skills you currently possess, I suspect that you are going to be spending a lot more time getting acquainted with actual potatoes in their real habitat as soon as you drop out of school like the dumb apes you are."

His work done, Light flounced on his heel and headed into his house. Ryuk followed meekly behind. The two extras blinked.

"Fuck," The shorter extra exclaimed, his hand down his pants. "I guess that makes me number two."

A half and hour or so later, Light sat sprawled in front of the television, an empty bowl beside him. His little sister wandered up to him.

"Hey Light!" Sayu exclaimed, "What'cha do-" vomit appeared out of nowhere, rapidly filling up the bowl, "-ing." Face turning green, Sayu decided that she really didn't need to know.

Ryuk's face was also green. "Damnit," he muttered, "if only bulimia wasn't the only way to get rid of potato-itis!" Giving Light the strongest glare he could muster, Ryuk mumbled expletives to himself. "Last time I dispose of an annoying side character for you, bitch."

Light ignored Ryuk's life altering proclamation. He had bigger problems to worry about.

A man with the most hideous bowl cut Light had ever seen had interrupted Light's favorite episode of Billy and Mandy. "The fuck you think you are!" Light threw the bowl of vomit at the television screen. Luckily for him, it missed, instead landing on his mother.

Sachiko flicked vomit off of her eyelids. "Does this mean no pie?" She asked. Light ignored her, as usual.

"You think you can just pop on and kick off Mandy and Grim and Saliva to show off your fugly bowl cut!" As the man in the TV continued to ignore him, Light's anger grew. "Answer me you asshole! Tell me your name if you wanna die!"

The ugly man continued on. "My name is Lind L. Taylor." Light blinked.

"Fuck it, ugly man, good timing. If only my other patients were as punctual as you are… Oh well. Your problem, not mine." Pushing himself off the couch, Light skipped up to his room. The ugly man continued speaking.

"Let's see," Light dug through his desk. "Found it!" Taking out his favorite pen - pink and sparkly with a squishy FuckMe!Zim action figure on top - Light scribbled down his latest success's name before flopping on his bed.

Ryuk bit his lip. Icky shinigami sap fell in buckets to the floor. He should really stop filing his teeth… "Don't you want to watch your latest killing?" He ventured.

Light snorted. "Fuck no. Like I ever want to see that ugly mug again!" Reaching under his mattress, Light pulled out his second most important secret. Determined music popped into the room as he flipped open the DS cover.

"Sides, I'm Japanese, bitch! The new Pokemon game came out last week. With a choice between game titles Black and White, how could I refuse my duty towards racism and not play?" Light mashed the "a" button until the initial sequence of hard core professor-on-starter porn ended and he was allowed to hit continue.

Ryuk sighed. It came out as an endless stream of apple-and-potato puke. "Bitch," he muttered. "And I thought the human world was supposed to be all fun and games."

In the living room, the television blared on. "not me! But I, L, live on! So why don't you kill me, Kira!" Unbeknownst to L, Kira was busy ordering his squirtle to withdraw before the climax of the battle. The last thing he wanted was another pokemon egg, he had learnt that lesson last gym.

"So there are people you can't kill." In a random crowd in a random place where even more random giant television screens were, there was a random gasp. Could their God be failing?

Unconcerned, Light got up, DS firmly in hand, to fetch a pail of water. Ryuk's ghostly puke was beginning to stink, so he wanted to wash it out the door into the hallway, where it would officially be considered someone else's problem.

"I now know that you are in the Kanto area!" The television proclaimed.

Light shot it a brief glare. "Some kind of genius you are, Professor Trelawny," he sneered. "The Kanto region came out more than a _decade _ago. Get with the times, bitch." Then he headed into the kitchen to gather his much needed relief.

Cheeks slightly red, Light stared down, hypnotized, as the game rewarded him for having beat his rival. "Son of a nutcracker," he purred. "What'll they think of next?"

Light took a sip of his water as he headed towards the stairs. His pail was almost overflowing, and he always had trouble walking without spilling. It wouldn't do to fall down and break his crown! A God was much more dignified than that.

"-when I catch you, Kira!" Water sprayed out of Light's mouth as he choked, eyes wide. Spinning around to see the TV, Light looked from his game to the gothic L.

Coughing the last bit of water out of his lungs, Light snapped his DS shut, the black dominatrix outfit his in-game sister wore fading out. "I'd be fucked," Light said as he glared at the letter, "if I let that happen to me."

Light headed up the stairs, leaving the dripping, barf covered living room for someone else to clean up. "I will hunt you down and destroy you!" The TV promised. Light shuddered and went pale. "I'd probably be fucked," Light whispered, "literally."

Ryuk poked his head out of the stairway. "You got any Tums?"


	5. Cheating is Always the Right Way

"Go, Light, go!" Sayu cheered from the doorway. Sachiko offered her son a wavering smile.

"Growing up so fast… I can hardly believe that just yesterday you were spouting out from Todd's-"

"Crush their dreams and spirits!" Sayu waved a pair of pompoms at him furiously. "Take no prisoners!"

Light, halfway down the driveway, paused. "You know that means kill them all, right?"

Sayu blinked. "'Crush their dreams and spirits'?"

"No, the take no prisoners part. Because when you're taking no prisoners, that's because you're slaughtering all of the opposition." Ryuk, bobbing along next to Light, yawned and hoped this would be over quickly.

Sayu looked shifty. "Is there something wrong with that?"

"Well, not really, I guess." Light readjusted his hair. "It's just that I'm going to take an exam, not… I don't know, take care of someone, if you know what I mean."

His mother sighed lovingly. "Just do your best, sweetheart. And come back before it's too late. I'm making pie!"

Giving his mother a disturbed look, Light hit the road. Then, examining the new rip in his shirt with a frown, he picked himself up off from the road, waved goodbye to his family, and started walking.

"So," Ryuk looked questionably at Light as they approached the building where the exam was going to take place. "You nervous? Huh? You nervous?"

"Ryuk, please." Light smoothed out his shirt collar. "Why would I ever need to be nervous?"

Ryuk nodded his head at the nerds that filled the exam room. "These guys are too hideous to be here because of anything other than their brains. Shouldn't you be worried about the competition?"

Light smirked. He had taught his dog well. Well, well considering the first part of his statement. "Hardly. I'm too beautiful to fail. Besides, I have a secret advantage."

"What's that?" Ryuk, while filing his nails, cast a greedy look at Light's bag. Not because he wanted his fashionable man purse, but because there were _apples_ in that bag. Apples for _him_.

"You, of course." Humming faintly, Light sat down at his table.

Ryuk floated back, appalled. "Whoa. Stop right there, human." The shinigami tried to pout. Let's just say it was a good thing he was invisible to the majority of the room's population, because it was _not _a pretty sight. Light made a mental note to get him a dentist appointment, and fast… right after he found a dentist that could not only see but was able to treat shinigami. "What makes you think I'd help you out? Didn't I tell you I was being Switzerland?"

Light gave a mock gasp, gesturing with one arm at his man purse. "And let these apples go to waste?" He winced once more seeing Ryuk's frown. "You didn't think I'd be giving these to you for free, did you?"

"I was hoping you would…" Yeah. Maybe that could be Light's third job. World Dictator, World Therapist, and Shinigami World Dentist. "Besides, how am I supposed to tell who has the right answers? I can read names and dieing days, not brains."

Nope. Light was still too afraid of drills to be pursuing that as a career option. But if he got desperate enough he supposed he'd consider it. After all, all good things came in threes… Light jolted awake when Ryuk pushed his upside down face in front of his. "Oh. Right. Just look for the ugliest person here," Light said dismissively. "And that'll probably be him."

"Begin," a stuffy looking man announced, and Light shooed Ryuk off and set to work. Or, at least, he tried to. "Student 162!" The stuffy looking man barked. "Please sit properly." Annoyed at the commotion, Light turned to glare at whoever had messed up his concentration.

Three rows behind him, a rather freaky looking man Light wouldn't be hard-pressed to imagine sitting on the corner of a highway shaking a tin cup at passing cars sat crouched in his seat. He had the biggest fish eyes Light had ever seen, and they came equipped with black bags that indicated he was either a huge fan of Avril or desperately needed some Advil.

"Hey, Light!" Ryuk called out him, gleefully spinning in circles around the weirdo's head. "Is this guy ugly enough?"

Allowing Ryuk a slight smile, Light nodded his head, cast one last lingering look at the Avril Lavigne eyed freak, and turned back to his test so that he could work his way to college the old fashioned way.

Which was cheating, of course. Not actually working. Just in case you didn't get that part.

All in all, it was just another day in the life of Light Yagami.

* * *

L, after finishing glaring at the man who dared critique his sitting style, turned to contemplate his latest suspect. Light I'm a gay… He was suspicious. No one's name was supposed to fit them that well.

Holding back a sigh, L looked down at his test and concentrated as hard as he could for the following five minutes. Then, finished with it, he propped his elbow on his knee and his chin on his hand and leaned forward to continue his latest hobby, Light watching.

He was positive the too-perfect-to-be-true teen was really Kira. After all, what other explanation was there? From what he had observed, Light was a megalomaniac who talked out loud to himself and his imaginary friend, a female dog named Ryuk, and also doubled as an amateur magician with a one trick pony of making apples disappear in mid-air. Puh-lease. L had seen better on American Idol. And everyone knows that when the Americans can do it better, then it's not something worth doing.

Oh, and Light also had the odd quirk of his eyes flashing red, being prone to occasional bouts of maniacal laughter, and of keeping a diary, but L wasn't too concerned about those factors. Those things were nothing compared to some of the crazy kids he knew from the Wammy's. As long as Light didn't suddenly develop an intense craving for jam, L was content enough to leave those clues alone.

A small frown playing on his lips, L irritably drummed his fingers against his knees and waited for the testing hours to be over. He had told the NPA that there was only a five percent chance that the Light kid was Kira, but he'd been lying. According to all of the collected evidence, there was more like a .05 percent chance that the teen was the mass murdering therapist's nightmare. There _was_ a twenty five percent chance that Light was the son of the anti-christ, but L respected Soichiro's mustache's sweet fetching skills far too much to inform him of the fact that his wife might have cheated on him.

That was probably part of the reason why L hadn't told the NPA that, in L's opinion, Light's chance of being Kira was more like ninety five percent than just five. Well, that and the fact that L's evidence for that wasn't something he'd want to admit to a room full of semi-respectable detectives - or anyone, really.

L scowled as he tried to glare his impending blush away. He still couldn't believe that the I'm a Gay kid had porn! And what looked like the good kind, too!

After all, L was going to be turning twenty-five, and he'd never seen a real woman at all, forget about naked. And since it was too much of an identity risk to go out and buy some magazines himself, and Watari absolutely refused to buy him anything not G rated, L was left with asking his jail bait, L-in-training brats to buy him the good stuff.

Mello, at least, would probably do it, but L wasn't that desperate… yet. His quest for not possessing all v-cards would have to wait a little longer.

On a different note, L had no problem being approached by guys. Well, he had a problem with the fact that he was approached by guys, but not a problem with getting them to approach him. Apparently, they could tell by his coal.

Why they all thought he'd been rubbing reject Christmas presents around his eyes, he had no idea.

Suddenly struck by a thought, L cast a nervous look at the still scribbling Light Yagami. He had been planning on moving the Kira investigation up close and personal, and he'd seen the way Light was with some of his more… difficult patients.

L wondered if he should do some research on how the whole gay sex thing worked, just in case. He was pretty sure he could guess the basics, but he didn't want to have to waste more cans of whip cream than necessary.

Knowing Light, he'd probably leap at any chance to outshine L once he brought him in on the Kira investigation.

L didn't really think he was ready to take this hypothetical step in their non-existent relationship, but he knew with a last name like Light's, there would probably be no warning. Or if there was, it would probably be all backward.

Alright, L thought to himself as he started to hyperventilate. Stay calm. Just look out for any signs of Light being not gay… And then you'll know when he's about to make his move.

* * *

Light sneezed. "Uh oh, Light." Ryuk snickered as he floated lazily above his human charge. "Somebody must be talking about you."

Light held back a snort. _I'd be worried if somebody wasn't, _he thought idly, then turned back to his test with a vengeance.


End file.
